


Bandanas

by LadyLaguna



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: M/M, edoroku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaguna/pseuds/LadyLaguna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bandanas come in handy sometimes, particularly in the castle's engine room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bandanas

**Author's Note:**

> Time frame is nebulous. Whenever you want to imagine them doing this!

Those bandanas were always so useful, and Locke was always so complacent when Edgar asked the right way.

But now he looked somewhat nervous, his hands bound over his head and tied to a pipe as thick as his arm. His pants were long gone, ass pressed against the warm surface of the engine compartment.

Edgar could easily assure him that all would be fine, that an emergency lockout kept the castle from revving again so shortly after a dive… But the way he squirmed was so delicious. And it didn’t keep his erection at bay, a thick bead of precum sliding down his quivering length.

There was a bandana over his mouth as well. Edgar insisted this kept anyone unseemly from hearing what they were up to, but the truth was that nobody but Edgar came down there unless instructed. The engine room was the King’s baby and anyone who interfered risked verbal discipline or worse. It was just that Locke’s frustration was so attractive…

“Locke,” His Majesty purred.

Letting out a long breath through his nose, Locke replied, “Mmnh,” with a degree of desperation not often heard from him.

“Are you ready?”

Locke’s hips arched upward, another whine rolling from his throat. Grinning, Edgar slicked a layer of oil over the little toy he’d concocted. It was a smooth metal bulb attached to a handle, curved just so. Many nights of experiment had gone into its creation, with exact measurements recorded alongside observations.

Easily enough, it slid inside the thief’s waiting body. Spreading his legs, Locke sighed softly. “The anticipation… that’s the worst… isn’t it?” Then it hit right where it was supposed to; Locke mewled, head rolling backward. Edgar’s hand, still wet with oil, closed around Locke’s member. The dance began then, Edgar’s hands moving with the mathematical precision befitting an engineer… Locke’s hips rolling greedily toward both sources of pleasure.

Edgar knew exactly how to tease his lover, when exactly his moans would reach a crescendo that meant climax was looming. _The anticipation was the worst._ Edgar would pull back then, taking his toy and his hand away and watching Locke whine openly in disappointment. Always he would whine, never learning the routine. Or, perhaps, not caring. As precum pooled on Locke’s heaving stomach, Edgar would open his trousers, producing the result of his efforts. Down in the engine room, he wore rags, stained with grease and any manner of filth. He barely pulled his shirt upward as he covered his own member in more oil.

“Locke…” Edgar hissed again, slowly stroking himself until the thief’s eyes opened, turning downward.

He grabbed Locke’s thighs, keeping them spread wide as he pressed the head of his cock against Locke’s cherry. Without hesitation, he drove inside. Locke was ready and willing, warm and soft and wet. They both watched as Edgar buried himself completely… A golden thatch of hair was all that bridged the gap between Locke’s olive skin and Edgar’s fairer belly. Locke moaned achingly, hips canting. Edgar began to thrust. Slowly, deliberately, holding onto control as well as he could under the circumstances.

Locke bit at that rag wedged between his teeth, eyes rolling back into his skull. This was just the beginning. Edgar coiled wet fingers around Locke’s cock again. Two heartbeats between each thrust. He could feel Locke’s body caressing him as he stroked. “Mmnh… Perfect…”

Breath ragged, Locke pulled uselessly against his bonds. His knuckles turned white. One heartbeat. A bit more roughly. The heels of the thief’s feet pressed against the edge of the compartment. His body lifted off of its surface.

Edgar lost control. He leaned forward, one arm supporting his weight as the other stroked Locke’s member more frantically. Hips slamming against the thief’s, Edgar hissed his pleasure between perfect white teeth. If not for the gag, Locke’s voice would be echoing off of the walls. As it was, he screamed brokenly, eyes squeezing shut.

“Yessss… Cum for me, Locke…”

Whether it was truly by command or because Edgar knew Locke’s body so well, he finished. His back arched with a last breathless cry, cum splashing across his chest. That was it, the most divine moment, when he was completely unfettered. Edgar splayed a sticky hand across Locke’s stomach, pressing him downward so that he could fuck him as roughly as he pleased for that last frantic moment.

Finishing deep inside, Edgar wrung a last exhausted moan from his lover before it was all over.

Withdrawing, he grabbed another bandana and cleaned himself well. Quietly, he watched Locke swim through the afterglow, his wrists red from the ties. Sweaty head drooped against his forearm, he simply lay there, panting. Legs still spread, still completely filthy, his majesty’s seed deep inside him…

“Only I get to see you like this. And I will never tire of it.” Was it a command? A promise? Neither of them could ever ascertain.

“Mmnh…” Locke replied dreamily, head lolling just slightly in recognition.

Once Edgar’s clothes were in place, he finally saw fit to clean Locke and untie him. Hair mussed, Locke removed his gag, licking his dry lips tiredly. Edgar handed him his pants; he reveled in the knowledge that his cum would stay just where he put it for at least a short while.

Pulling on his pants, Locke stood, head dipped downward. Edgar tilted his chin upward, meeting his eyes. They were still hooded from lust and that sated need. They kissed, lips parting for just a moment so each could inhale deeply, finishing the thought afterward.

“I want that bandana back after you clean it,” Locke commanded quietly, eyes cast toward the sticky rag that Edgar had borrowed.


End file.
